


sometimes i could punch you

by bitnotgood



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 23:12:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/703747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitnotgood/pseuds/bitnotgood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles decides that Derek is kind of a dick, and Derek doesn't really understand why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sometimes i could punch you

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a few months ago for a friend and completely forget that it existed until today. It contains the usual tropes from the show, sorry about that.

“You’re kind of a dick.”

That’s what Stiles says right before Derek turns and slams him into the nearest wall. It’s become a fluid motion, somewhat of an art form, Stiles thinks, as the air sort of _wooshes_ out of his lungs. He’s on the tips of his toes, but it isn’t too much of a struggle for him to stay balanced. This has become an art form for Derek, but it’s really Stiles who has mastered the reactions.

Derek’s nostrils are flared a little and there’s a trace of red that muddies the color of his eyes. On the Derek scale of pissed off, this is roughly a four. So, that’s not too bad.

Stiles’ hands are splayed against the wall behind him. His fingers get a feel for the smooth surface. Ah, untextured walls. Those are the best types of walls. Sometimes when they’re in a building and Derek gets the urge to throw Stiles against a wall, they happen to be textured. And really, being thrown against a rigid wall with wolfie ferocity when you’re only wearing a T-shirt isn’t the greatest feeling ever.

“Seriously, Derek, you need to stop that,” Stiles continues. He can feel the warm puff of Derek’s breathing across his face and his knees wobble just a little.

Derek’s grip has loosened a little, but he’s still just close enough to not be entirely pressed against Stiles. Which is so friggin’ close, man, but that’s cool. Stiles isn’t going to think about it.

While Stiles is not thinking about _it_ , Derek moves deeper into Stiles personal space, positioning his head a couple inches away from Stiles’ ear.

“Stop what?” he says. No, he pretty much growls the words out. Stiles thinks Derek might’ve been going for threatening, but there is no way in hell something can be threatening when the undertone is screaming sex appeal.

Stiles feet have wobbled themselves firmly on the ground by now, even though his legs feel a little bit more jello-y than usual.

“Uhh” he starts to say, but he’s at a loss for words – one of the very few times it’s ever happened. But he can’t be blamed, not when Derek Hale is only an inch or so away from his ear and breathing down his neck (in a way that is the complete and utter opposite of creepy).

Derek smells of leather, dirt, and crunched autumn leaves. There’s also a hint of soap in there somewhere that Stiles desperately wants to figure out, because he _knows_ the brand. He’s just a little distracted at the moment because he can feel Derek’s lips just above his skin, which is really not okay.

Stiles is just about to tell him that, but Derek moves away. His face is gone from the crook of Stiles’ neck and the rest of his body is slowly moving away until Stiles is left facing his back. That’s when Stiles flushes red with annoyance, and yeah, maybe a little bit of anger. He huffs and takes a step forward.

Then punches Derek in the shoulder.

Derek’s body whips around, eyes quickly flashing red before going back to their normal blue green. “What was that for?” he demands, glaring at Stiles.

Stiles gestures toward Derek, hands flailing a little bit to fully encompass Derek’s stance. This should really say it all, but Derek’s eyebrows arch in confusion.

“You need to stop doing _that_ ,” Stiles offers crossing his arms over his chest.

“ _What?”_

Stiles sighs because he should know by now. Derek should smell the attraction that rolls off of Stiles in waves, and has been rolling off of him for months. He should feel the heat that burns under his skin and his rapid heartbeat every time Derek comes within a few feet of him, but Derek just doesn’t seem to get it.

So Stiles starts off slowly taking another step closer. “You need to stop turning away like that. From me, in case that wasn’t clear, because I—”

Derek is still looking at him with his usual mildly annoyed scowl.

And that's when Stiles decides he had enough of Derek's crap.

Stiles presses his body against Derek’s, hands grabbing for his leather jacket, but end up with his stupid wife beater instead. Derek stills under Stiles’ hands, but he isn’t tense, just cautious. Stiles angles his head slightly upward until his lips meet Derek’s and prays that he doesn’t get his head bitten off, or made fun of once it’s over.

To his surprise, Derek actually kisses back.

It’s soft and tentative, and very unlike Derek, but dammit, it is the something that Stiles has been waiting for. He can feel Derek’s hands move towards his waist, pulling him a little closer, and Stiles takes that as an invitation to wrap a hand around Derek’s neck and do the same.

Stiles has kissed one other person. A girl named Jessica from a fourth grade party. She smelled like strawberries and her face just didn’t seem to fit right with his. Maybe it was because they were in the fourth grade and neither really knew what to do, but it wasn’t the best kissing experience.

Flash forward how many years and Stiles still didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew he was right, that this whole… _thing_ was right.

It’s Derek who pulls away first, but Stiles doesn’t even have the chance to feel disappointed, not with the way that Derek is smiling at him. It’s a wide grin that is so unlike Derek it makes Stiles want to laugh, or giggle, or something else that was equally corny. Instead he rests his forehead against Derek’s, breathing him in.

“You smell good.” It’s the first thing that comes to mind after everything. Which is kind of classic Stiles.

Derek laughs at the comment, but says, “Thank you.”

That in itself is enough to make Stiles’ toes curl. The way he can feel the laugh rumble through his chest and puff air warm against his neck. When Derek brings his face back to the crook of Stiles’ neck and moves his mouth right above his pulse point, Stiles does more than just curl his toes.

But Derek is gone again, removed from Stiles’ hold and working on something else that isn’t Stiles.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Stiles groans shaking his head.

Derek turns his head a fraction, just enough to make eye contact and flashes Stiles his smuggest grins before turning back again.

“Oh yeah, you’re definitely a dick.”


End file.
